The Response

Sgt. Declan J. Coady was twenty years old. He was from West Des Moines, Iowa. He enlisted in the Army Reserve in 2023 while studying information systems and cybersecurity at Drake University. As an Eagle Scout, his final project was building twelve Adirondack chairs for Iowa Homeless Youth Centers — many of them given to people moving into permanent housing. He graduated from West Des Moines Valley High School with a silver cord, signifying more than a hundred hours of community service. He and his brother returned to the youth centers after the project was finished to build storage shelves in the basement. The project was done, but the work wasn’t.

On March 1, 2026, an Iranian drone struck the tactical operations center at Port Shuaiba, Kuwait. Coady was one of six soldiers killed. All six were assigned to the 103rd Sustainment Command, an Army Reserve unit based in Des Moines. He was promoted posthumously from specialist to sergeant.

The operations center was a triple-wide trailer converted into office space, surrounded by T-walls — steel-reinforced concrete barriers designed to absorb blast from rockets, not to defend against overhead attack. There was no counter-rocket, artillery, and mortar system at Port Shuaiba. There was, as one survivor put it, no drone defense capability at all. A U.S. Army Central memo reviewed by CBS News found that Iranian intelligence had likely identified and tracked U.S. forces in the area in the week before the strike, using small quad-copter drones to monitor troop movements. GPS transponders attached to balloons or parachutes were discovered near Patriot missile systems the day after the attack. Prior to March 1, military officials had discussed whether the location should be used as a secondary operations center at all, because it concentrated too many troops in a position that could not be defended from overhead. Despite a recommendation against using it, ground leaders proceeded.

Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth described the drone that killed Coady and five others as “a squirter” — military terminology for something that slips through a perimeter — saying it “makes its way through” adequate defenses. Assistant Secretary of Defense Sean Parnell stated that “every possible measure has been taken to safeguard our troops” and that the secure facility was “fortified with 6-foot walls.”

The soldiers who survived the attack said neither of these things was true.

“Painting a picture that ‘one squeaked through’ is a falsehood,” one of the injured soldiers told CBS News. “I want people to know the unit … was unprepared to provide any defense for itself. It was not a fortified position.” Asked to describe the degree of fortification, another survivor responded: “I mean, I would put it in the none category. From a drone defense capability … none.”

Hegseth did not respond to the survivors’ testimony. A Pentagon spokesperson declined to comment, citing an active investigation.

In March 2025 — a year before Port Shuaiba — Hegseth shared sensitive operational information about planned U.S. strikes against Houthi targets in Yemen across two Signal messaging groups on his personal phone. The information included the quantity and strike times of manned U.S. aircraft over hostile territory, sent approximately two to four hours before execution. The first Signal group included senior national security officials and, because National Security Adviser Mike Waltz accidentally added him, a journalist from The Atlantic. The second group included Hegseth’s wife, his brother, and his personal lawyer. His wife does not work for the Department of Defense.

The Pentagon Inspector General determined in December 2025 that the information Hegseth sent matched operational data U.S. Central Command had classified as SECRET//NOFORN — not to be shared with foreign nationals. The inspector general concluded that the disclosure violated Pentagon policies and that had a foreign adversary intercepted it, the information “could have resulted in failed U.S. mission objectives and potential harm to U.S. pilots.” Hegseth refused to sit for an interview with investigators. He provided only a written response, claiming he had the authority to declassify information.

The Pentagon did not conduct the routine damage assessment that follows an unauthorized disclosure of classified defense information — the standard investigation into whether sources, methods, or ongoing operations have been compromised. It was not conducted in part because Hegseth never authorized it. The secretary whose disclosure triggered the need for the assessment was the secretary who would have had to authorize it.

No disciplinary action was recommended. No consequences followed. The White House reiterated confidence in Hegseth.

On April 23, 2026 — fifty-three days after six soldiers died at Port Shuaiba — Rep. Maggie Goodlander led thirteen House Democratic veterans in a letter demanding that Hegseth provide a formal written investigation and response to Congress by May 22. The letter cited the survivors’ testimony. It asked why overhead force protection was not in place at Shuaiba. It asked whether similar vulnerabilities exist at the other nineteen U.S. military sites in the area of responsibility. It asked why the secretary’s public characterization of the attack contradicted the accounts of soldiers who were there.

The letter demands that Hegseth investigate the force protection failures that killed six soldiers under his authority. The entity being asked to investigate is the entity whose public statements about the attack the survivors have called a falsehood. The entity being asked to assess accountability is the entity that would be found accountable.

This is the same architecture that produced the Signal outcome. The secretary whose disclosure required a damage assessment was the secretary who controlled whether the assessment took place. He chose not to authorize it. The investigation of the force protection failure runs through the same office that mischaracterized the failure as adequate defense. The Pentagon’s response to the survivors — “active investigation, no comment” — holds the question in a category where no answer can emerge until the investigation is complete. The investigation’s completion is controlled by its subject.

The pathway from a soldier’s death to the secretary’s accountability runs through the secretary. It does not arrive.

Many of the Adirondack chairs Coady built for the homeless youth centers were given to people moving into permanent housing. He was twenty. The response is not coming.

Sources